


call my heart your home

by growlery writes (growlery)



Series: nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone is Queer, F/M, fraught millenial romance, still set in london for reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: It’s like any other evening in the Big Queer Flat, and Raven’s not sure she knows what happiness is but she thinks it might be something close to this, the quiet peaceful feeling in her chest breaking out amongst the stress and anger and despair that’s the constant backdrop of her life. It never lasts, but she grasps it tightly while she can, anyway.





	call my heart your home

**Author's Note:**

> am i starting YET ANOTHER incredibly indulgent bellamy/raven wip? you bet i am. life is short chase your bliss xo
> 
> title appropriated from autoclave by the mountain goats

Raven’s playing Toni Morrison on her ancient CD player, volume turned down low so it won’t wake Monroe, who’s sleeping off the night shift she was on last night. She’s got Monty’s feet in her lap while she scrolls idly through job listing in search of something slightly less shitty than her current shitty job and he does something on his laptop that she made him promise wasn’t work but suspects is, anyway; Monty’s a great liar. 

It’s like any other evening in the Big Queer Flat, and Raven’s not sure she knows what happiness is but she thinks it might be something close to this, the quiet peaceful feeling in her chest breaking out amongst the stress and anger and despair that’s the constant backdrop of her life. It never lasts, but she grasps it tightly while she can, anyway. 

And then her phone buzzes in her hand, and she sees the notification flash up and a smile breaks out on her face without her permission. Maybe it’ll last a little longer, tonight. It’s nothing special, nothing important, some kind of meme screenshotted from Twitter, that Bellamy saw and thought of her. 

And, okay. Raven is self-aware enough to know that the latter part of that sentence is a large part of the warmth budding in her chest. They’ve been texting back and forth since that awkward morning and aborted meetup, and it turns out that Bellamy is easy to talk to, sharp and incisive and sneakily funny in a way that catches her off guard every time. 

It’s not a big deal. They’re, like, friends. They don’t hang out or anything, but they keep their text chain going for hours on end, picked up again effortlessly when one or both of them has to put their phone down. They might also have a snap streak going, but it’s only because Bellamy got so excited about it when she explained it to him, like the incredibly not online dork that he is. 

That reminds her - she needs to send something back for today. Bellamy’s offering had been a snap of the cover of the book he’d just started, some centrist political commentary that Raven absolutely had to give him shit for, because what are friends for if not for gentle bad faith mockery? Bellamy’s rants about “fucking toxic neoliberal _bullshit_” are always entertaining, and he’s kind of mesmerising when he’s righteously, passionately decrying the state of their political landscape. 

Raven never sent anything back, is the point. She’s tipping her head back, frowning at the ceiling, when Monty nudges her thigh with his ankle. 

“Miller’s on his way home,” he says, and she glances over at him, eyebrows raised. “Wanna do dinner?”

“Sure,” Raven says, pushing Monty’s legs away so she can get up. He snaps his laptop shut before she can get a look at the screen, smiling innocently at her when she narrows her eyes. Monty’s startup works him to the bone, and it’s starting to show on his face, in the way he droops when he thinks no one’s looking. “What are we making?”

Miller comes through the door as they’re dishing up the stirfry they made too much of, but leftovers aren’t exactly a problem. Monty makes a quip about having Miller’s dinner ready on the table for him, and something aches in Raven’s chest at Miller’s tolerant eye roll, the way he can’t hold back the fondness in every line of his face. 

“This is a gross display of heteronormativity,” she announces, “and, quite frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Monty.”

“Not as disappointed as I am in myself,” Monty says, with a tragic shake of his head, and Miller laughs at them both. 

They eat squashed together on the couch, an old episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine on in the background, and Raven sends Bellamy a shot of Miller leaning into Monty’s side, adding a bunch of hearts around the expression on Monty’s face as he looks down at Miller. She’s not even had time to put her phone down when it buzzes; Bellamy’s taken a screenshot, and sent something back, and she’s smiling as she opens it. It’s not a picture, just text: 🤮🙄❤️🧡💛💚💙💜😍🥰😍🥰😍👨❤️💋👨👨❤️👨, and then _tell em i say hey_. 

“Bellamy says hey,” Raven says, without looking up from her phone. “And that you two are nauseatingly cute, if I’m interpreting his emojis right.”

“Yeah we are,” Monty says happily, but Miller frowns. 

“You’re talking to Bellamy?”

There’s something in Miller’s voice, not accusatory, exactly, but it makes Raven’s shoulders lock up. “Obviously,” she says, but Miller’s known her long enough to know she’s deflecting. She shrugs as casually as she can make herself. “We talk sometimes.”

Miller smirks, and Raven scowls at him. "Tell him we say hey back," he says, and Raven does. 


End file.
